Poverty And Misrule – Hasmukh Amathalal

Wolves are same all over
You need to think it over
Liberty and freedom
Go together seldom

Under the same name
People gang up to come
In power and try to rule
Rest all people watch them as fool

Poor shall suffer more
As restrictions shall not be over
Their freedom of expression shall remain on paper
They will remain free but facing starvation and hunger

Africa has natural sources in abundance
Now you have got chance
Rise above pretty considerations
And exert pressure as an independent nation

If no resistance is offered
Or awareness is created
You shall be kept under control
To face poverty and misrule

Poverty Is Slavery – Abekah Emmanuel

It may be buried memories from my past
Though still fresh and striking to my heart
How I wish its effects ceases to last
But anytime it flashes my mind, it makes me sad.

I stopped writing about it few months ago
For it irritates the Jones and saddens the slaves
But whenever I spend time alone
I can’t help it but to write on my slate.

Haven long been a vibrant slave myself
I have seen, felt and lived in slavery
As it drags multitudes to their premature graves
And causes the deceived, lots of misery.

I remember how it had laid a peasant farmer
To his peaceful rest, because he had a cut
But was not able to seek the help of the doctor,
It is a pity, I feel the pains, it pierces my heart.

I remember my mum, cooking in that dark kitchen,
Fanning the tripod stand with her mouth
Tears dripping from her eyes, what a poor maiden!
I feel her pains too, but I look into the future and laugh.

I also remember how dad returns from the farm, his economy
Where he had lived most of his life, he is very exhausted
But mummy still consoles him, what a happy colony!
Butter and sugar, have in their lives, never tasted.

But they always have one thing, that never perishes,
Although, they have been in slavery for many years
They have hope and dream of a new dawn of riches
Where poverty shall no more be their portion.

The Lady Poverty – Evelyn Underhill

I met her on the Umbrian hills,
Her hair unbound, her feet unshod:
As one whom secret glory fills
She walked, alone with God.

I met her in the city street:
Oh, changed was all her aspect then!
With heavy eyes and weary feet
She walked alone, with men.

Poverty – Konjit Berhane

The poor
The homeless
The mother
The father
The son
The daughter
One by one
Died of hunger

The aunt
The uncle
The niece
The cousin
Followed them later

Oh! Poverty
Killing all the makers of history
Will you and I live to see
Poverty being history?

Poverty – Thomas Traherne

As in the house I sate,
Alone and desolate,
No creature but the fire and I,
The chimney and the stool, I lift mine eye
Up to the wall,
And in the silent hall,
Saw nothing mine
But some few cups and dishes shine,
The table and the wooden stools
Where people used to dine;
A painted cloth there was,
Wherein some ancient story wrought
A little entertained my thought,
Which light discovered through the glass.

I wondered much to see
That all my wealth should be
Confined in such a little room,
Yet hope for more I scarcely durst presume.
It grieved me sore
That such a scanty store
Should be my all;
For I forgot my ease and health,
Nor did I think of hands or eyes,
Nor soul nor body prize;
I neither thought the sun,
Nor moon, nor stars, nor people mine,
Though they did round about me shine;
And therefore was I quite undone.

Some greater things, I thought,
Must needs for me be wrought,
Which till my craving mind could see
I ever should lament my poverty;
I fain would have
Whatever bounty gave,
Nor could there be
Without or love or deity;
For should not he be infinite
Whose hand created me?
Ten thousand absent things
Did vex my poor and wanting mind,
Which, till I be no longer blind,
Let me not see the King of kings.

His love must surely be
Rich, infinite, and free;
Nor can he be thought a God
Of grace and power, that fills not his abode,
His holy court,
In kind and liberal sort;
Joys and pleasures,
Plenty of jewels, goods, and treasures,
To enrich the poor, cheer the forlorn,
His palace must adorn,
And given all to me;
For till his works my wealth became,
No love or peace did me inflame:
But now I have a Deity.

Baby Doll – Jenna Ellis

My mother gave me a baby doll,
And said it was my own to keep,
But something is wrong with this doll,
Because it ”baahs” like a sheep,
I told my mother what it”s doing,
And she said not to worry,
Then I went back up to my room,
And my baby doll was furry,
I looked at it closely,
And what comes to my surprise,
The baby doll, is not a baby doll no more,
It”s a sheep with kitty eyes.
The next day my dad came home with a doll,
He said it is mine to keep,
Something was wrong with this doll,
It didnt look the same, As all the other dolls I see,
Because it”s cry was pretty lame,
And it had no clothes to wear,
But I put it underneath my bed,
and I still think it”s under there.